The chief value of visions is in their fulfilment. A visionary man is one who sees but does not do. He has revelations of splendid possibilities, but they do not materialize. The sky of his inner consciousness is all painted over with beautiful pictures, but those designs never get on the canvas or into the marble or find their fulfilment in flesh and blood. The most elaborate plans and specifications will not shelter a family nor constitute a home. They must be embodied in brick and stone and timber in order to make them valuable. Only the concreting of ideals can save the vision-gazer from becoming a visionary. It is always interesting and instructive to trace the process by which a vision is made real. Often the pathway to the goal is obscure, difficult, and tedious, but it is worth while to follow it. This chapter will be an endeavor to trace the process by which the vision of the Larger Parish became a reality. I had a clear apprehension of two things--the work to be done, and the instrument by which it must be accomplished; but just how the instrument was to accomplish the work was not so evident. Here was the church, and here were the people; but how could they be brought together to their mutual advantage? I had been a very busy man for years. My time had been fully occupied and I had not supposed it possible to take more work. How was I to multiply my activities many fold and still be efficient? The church had been active and aggressive. It had been doing large things. In the opinion of some it had been straining itself beyond reasonable limits in carrying on its work. How could it quadruple the size of its parish by annexing all the territory within a radius of five miles in every direction, and increase its constituency several times over. Would it not be swamped by its acquisitions? Would it not be overwhelmed by the number and greatness of its obligations and responsibilities? It had not adequately ministered to all the people in its smaller parish. How would it be when its boundaries were so greatly increased? These and many other doubtful questions presented themselves, and the answers were not at hand. But there were the outlying neighborhoods; without consulting them I had annexed them to my parish. There was the church; without asking its consent, in my own mind I had multiplied its work and increased its burdens many fold. I had a task with the people to make them willing to be annexed; with the church, to lead it to accept its heavier burdens and its larger responsibilities; and a still greater task to bring the church and the people into such relations that the work should be accomplished. How did I go about my task?